


Where I Cannot Follow

by Vultoni_and_Arnaera



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: AU: Modern Mythology, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, M/M, No Beta, One Shot, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vultoni_and_Arnaera/pseuds/Vultoni_and_Arnaera
Summary: Henry had been content for centuries to let the mortal world go on without him. He was no longer mortal after all, so why care what they do?After meeting and falling in love with a certain criminal mastermind, he finds himself suddenly caring very, very much. Especially when his love will be leaving Earth, and him, behind.Henry is an immortal earth elemental, one of the last magical creatures left after the age of magic ended centuries ago. While the Toppats prepare to launch their orbital station, he must make peace with the fact that he is going to be left behind.
Relationships: Henry Stickmin & The Toppat Clan, Reginald Copperbottom/Henry Stickmin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 87





	Where I Cannot Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Fic #2! Whoo!
> 
> This is set in my Modern Mythology AU. The link to the concept post is here. (https://vultoni-and-arnaera.tumblr.com/post/631383650440773632/modern-mythology-au)
> 
> Basically, Henry, Charles, and Ellie are all some form of mythological creature living in the modern day. I intend to post more fics based in the au so stay tuned if you're interested.
> 
> Edit 10/26/20: Fixed typos
> 
> Cross-Posted on Tumblr.

The rocket towers above him, blocking out the sun to cast a long shadow reminiscent of a sun dial. It’s a hulking monolith, a great tower of metal and machinery that stretches up towards the sky, and its dizzying height looks like it will scrape the heavens. 

_Like the tower of babel_ , Henry thinks absently. He shields his eyes against the afternoon sun streaming through the window and looks over across the base. A strange kind of ordered pandemonium has seized the launch base with Toppats rushing every which way preparing for takeoff. The smile that tugs at his lips at the sight is unmistakably fond.

_There will be no god to interfere this time. I’ll make sure of it. Nothing will stop this launch._

He silently, solemnly, swears this. Even though his heart aches at the thought of the launch, he makes this his vow. A traitorous voice within disagrees, wanting to tear the whole thing down and forbid them, _forbid him_ , from leaving.

Henry harshly silences that voice. He had long decided to do this, to support his beloved in his project. Everything he could do to help, he did. He’d found the perfect spot for the launch, searched every piece of metal for faults, even shaped parts of the hull with his own hands. Whole-heartedly he had assisted them, thrown himself into this, _his_ , project.

Even though that very project, this very launch, will take his heart with it, leaving him behind.

Henry had never thought of the earth like this before, like a prison. How could he? It was his home. He’d walked it for eons, the one constant in the endless change brought on by the passing of time. Now it feels like a ball and chain, trapping him here while his beloved prepares to leave its surface.

For all his power, for all that the very rocks heed his call and even the strongest metal bends to his will, it is not enough. The one thing he cannot do, what he wants more than ever now, is to leave. 

He stops that train of thought in its tracks. Too much time, too many nights, have already been lost to the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘if-onlys’ that swirl in his mind. He can’t afford to dwell on it anymore, not now, so close to the deadline. Henry tunes his thoughts, and everything else, out and begins to focus. 

Down through the concrete and metal of the building he send his awareness, into the ground below, and finally outward. Farther and farther he searches, until he finds it. Life signs, lots of human life signs, on the move and headed toward them.

Henry pulls back his senses. They are closer now, and far too soon they will be upon them. The clock is running out, and he can stand here no longer. This will be the last chance he gets before Reginald leaves.

The door to the control room slides open. It’s busy here, too. The entire base is a hive of activity with no exceptions. He dodges a trio of Toppats headed out the door, tipping his hat in greeting. They barely acknowledge his presence, rushing off to the lift. He doesn’t take it personally. The launch has everyone whipped up in a frenzy.

Well almost everyone.

For all that the command room is chaotically busy, Reginald, in the middle of it all, is as in control as ever. The barely controlled flow of the Toppats all rushing through the preparations bend around him like a river. He controls it all like a conductor, shifting massive amounts of manpower and machinery with his voice alone. 

Even now, it still amazes Henry. He may be able to move the earth with ease, mold and shape it to his slightest whim, but controlling other people like that, commanding such loyalty, was true power. In all his years walking the earth, he’s only seen a handful of mortals with such a gift. All of them had become great leaders, etching their names into the annals of history.

In all his immortal life, Henry never imagined he’d meet one, come to love one so dearly.

The thought simultaneously warms his heart and hurts it. It also spurs him into action, a reminder of his purpose here.

Reginald’s leaning over the shoulder of one of the Toppats seated at the control panel. Henry recognizes him as Burt, the headphones fitted into his top hat making him easy to identify. They’re doing last minute preparations and checks, and he hates to interrupt them, but he’s running out of time. He can’t let Reginald leave without doing this. Henry hardens his resolve and walks up to them.

The two look up at his approach. Burt gives him a nod of acknowledgement and goes right back to work. A man of few words, that one. Reginald’s eyes light up as he spots him, and it does something funny to his heart.

“Henry! Come to check on the preparations?”

He nods and raises his hands to sign, “the military is getting closer. They’ll be here in roughly an hour.”

“That’s earlier than we’d calculated, but we can account for that,” Reginald says, “you remember the plan?”

“Of course.”

“Good, we’re counting on you, Henry,” Reginald says, “was that all you needed?”

For a moment Henry hesitates, indecision stilling his hands. He pushes it aside. It’s now or never.

“I need to talk to you,” he signs, “alone.”

Reginald hesitates, glancing around the control room. There’s still so much to be done and seemingly so little time to do it.

“It won’t take long,” Henry hastily signs, “just a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Reginald relents. He follows Henry out of the control room, giving orders to continue preparations in his absence.

The door closes behind them and Henry once again feels nervous. Why is he feeling this now? He’d planned this since Reginald first told him about the launch. Why is he feeling anxious now, seconds from the moment he’s been planning for months? 

And then they’re alone, and Reginald is in front of him.

And all hesitation leaves him.

“What is it, Henry?” Reginald asks, and his voice is soft in the way that makes Henry want to hold him and never let go.

Instead, he pulls the small package out of his coat.

“I want you to have this,” he says, voice shaky. He’s spent centuries silent, even forgotten what his voice sounded like, but Reginald seems to draw words from him with ease.

What power this one mortal has over him. Henry is drawn to him like the moon pulls the tide. He would move mountains for Reginald if he asked. And yet, Henry can never find it in himself to regret his choice.

He hands over the package, watches as he unwraps the dark fabric covering it, hears his breath catch at what is uncovered.

The blue gemstone sits there innocently, swaddled in the black cloth. To an untrained eye, it appears to be a sapphire, roughly cut and no bigger than Reginald’s palm. But they both know it is no ordinary gemstone.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Reginald says, tilting his hand to see the light ripple over its surface, “where did it come from?”

For a split second, Henry feels the urge to lie, to hide the truth of its origin.

He doesn’t.

“It’s from me,” he says, “it’s a part of me.”

A part of his true body, not the manifestation he currently occupies, but the one resting far beneath the surface. The body that houses his immortal soul.

He sees the moment Reginald realizes what he’s holding. In his deepest insecurities he’d pictured upset or disgust at the revelation. Instead, there is only a breathless reverence.

“Henry, I can’t accept this,” Reginald says, his voice shaking.

Henry reaches out, threading their fingers together and closing his hand around the gemstone.

“Please,” he murmurs, “I can’t go with you, but this way some part of me always will be. Please, take it.”

Reginald leans into him, exhaling a shaky breath. He takes their grasped hands in a trembling grip, encasing Henry’s hand in his. For a moment he’s silent, speechless, while he tries to find what to say.

“Okay,” he finally says. It’s only one word, two syllables, but the emotion behind it speaks of depthless love.

And suddenly Henry can’t breathe. He feels elated and humbled and weightless all at once. It feels as though the sun has taken up residence in his chest. He’s urged to speak, to pour out his heart for him, to fill the air with words of his love.

Instead, he pulls Reginald in for a kiss.

He’ll never tire of this, of having him so close. They could spend an eternity together and still Henry could never feel anything but fireworks at his touch. He feels dizzy, drunk on his kiss.

Henry can’t feel the effects of alcohol anymore, has only vague recollections of intoxication from his mortal life, but he knows that comparing that feeling to this is like comparing a single drop of water to the entire ocean.

If he could freeze time, he’d stop it right here. He wants to stay forever in this moment, would give up his eternity to let this second last.

But he can’t stop time, not anymore.

With what feels like a herculean effort, he breaks the kiss. He leans back, catching his breath and at war with himself. Henry wants him to stay, to never leave his side.

“You have to go,” he mutters, even though everything in him is crying out in protest, “the launch can’t wait.”

Those star-bright eyes flicker open, stunning Henry with their brilliance. He forces himself not to shy from their light, not wanting to miss a second of these precious moments.

It takes every ounce of Henry’s self-control to let Reginald pull out of his embrace, to let his fingers slip away from his grasp. The physical distance aches deep in his soul.

Reginald folds his hands together, presses them, and the gemstone within, over his heart.

“Thank you, Henry,” he says breathlessly, “I cannot begin to express how much this means to me. I will keep it close, always.”

“That’s all I could ever ask.”

For a breath, they are held there, caught in each other’s gravity, as if they were all that existed in the universe.

“The rocket will be launching in 1 hour.”

The automated announcement finally breaks the spell, pulls them back to reality. Reginald visibly gathers himself, transforming back into the capable leader Henry knows him to be. He’s amazed and proud and aching all at the same time.

Reginald meets his eyes, and the love-light still burns there like a torch against the darkness. It’s a beacon that clears the doubts hiding in the pits of his heart. Henry feels himself gravitate to him and reminds himself that it won’t be forever. _This isn’t goodbye_ , he thinks.

“Be safe, and good luck,” is what he says out loud.

The smile that dawns on Reginald’s face is gentle and affectionate, warm like the sun on a cold day.

And then he turns away and is gone. If he hesitates on his way out, well, neither can fault him for it.

Henry has his own duty to perform, his own part to play in making sure the launch goes off without a hitch, but there is still time before that.

So he closes his eyes, presses a hand to his lips, and begins to carve every second into his memory. He doesn’t want to forget any of it, doesn’t want to forget the feeling of Reginald’s body against his or the sound of his voice or the way his hands curled around Henry’s own. He wants to capture and preserve them perfectly. The day he forgets those precious details will be the day a part of him dies.

That traitorous voice returns, urges him to follow Reginald and beg him to stay, to not leave him. He might even listen. But even Henry knows that’s just a fantasy. He could no more convince Reginald to stay than he could tell the sun not to rise. 

Because it’s not just Reginald here. This launch is for the entire Toppat Clan, and that thought shuts the voice up.

This launch is for them, too. It’s for Burt, his stoic exterior hiding a kind soul, for Right, unshakably loyal and fierce as a dragon, for Sven, so brilliant and determined despite being so young, for them and the hundreds of other Toppats gathered here. This launch is the culmination of everything they’ve worked for.

They took him in, a stranger with powers they didn’t understand, and made him one of their own. They recognized a kindred soul in a non-human body and gave him a family. He felt more at home with them than he did with his own people. As far as he was concerned, they _were_ his people, not those who simply shared his magic.

Henry wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that he could keep them all safe, not with the lives they lived. Even with all his power, the best way, the only way for them to be safe, was this.

Even if it meant leaving him behind, stranded on the ground.

* * *

“The rocket will be launching in 10 minutes.”

The announcement rings out across the launch base, played through all speakers to an audience of one. There’s not another soul to be seen on the ground. The flurry of activity that filled the base to the brim has all evaporated, vanishing like wisps of smoke. Everyone else is gone.

Everyone but him.

Henry stands at the entrance of the base, a few paces off the concrete, in the center of the dirt road. He’s alone, but judging by the whirring of chopper blades he hears, faint but steadily growing louder, he won’t be alone for long.

The military is almost here. He feels their movement through the ground, through the pressure of tank treads and tires on the earth.

He tightens his focus, feeling out numbers, positions, vulnerabilities.

The sounds grow louder. He feels the earth shift under their advance and the thrum of the life-force they exude. The first one comes into a view, a helicopter high above the ground.

His eyes narrow. They will come no closer.

He sinks beneath the road. His focus expands outward, no longer filtered by his manifestation, and he can “see” his targets more clearly now. He calls out in a language as old as time itself, a call to action.

The earth answers.

A great spike of rock shoots up from the ground. He’s targeting blindly, only drawing from a visual judgement. He may miss his target completely.

The explosion he feels tells him he did not.

Henry feels the ranks break above him. Men and vehicles scatter in confusion and panic. The destruction of the helicopter causing mayhem to set in.

It’s the perfect diversion.

He sends more spires of stone crashing through the troops. Using the pressure against the ground and the flickering of life-force as his guide, he ruthlessly cuts through the gathered forces.

There’s a reason he’s out here alone. It can be difficult to discern enemy from ally from under the ground, and just the thought of catching any of the Toppats in his rampage shakes Henry to his core.

He can only trust that the aerial defense squadron has things handled, because without a visual he can do nothing against an airborne target. They’d been briefly introduced in the lead-up to the launch, and he knows they’re all extremely capable. That assuages his worries somewhat, but the worst case scenario still clings to his mind like a tick. But he has a job to do, so for now, Henry loses himself to the sway of destruction.

Before, when other elementals spoke of the joy that came from destroying, he’d never understood. Now, as he wreaks havoc on these gathered souls, he finally understands. There’s something freeing about unleashing mayhem like this, like scratching an itch he didn’t even know he had. But it was not mindless destruction like so many others spoke of. No, he turns his wrath on them for daring to harm his family, those he holds so dear.

He continues his rampage, feeling the stone cut through metal and flesh alike. The attacking army is nothing before the force of his fury.

The carnage is interrupted by a sensation that stops him dead. It’s hotter than dragon fire and shakes the ground with such force it rattles his non-existent bones.

Henry knows what it is, and a mix of elation and devastation flows through him at the realization.

It’s the rocket, taking off at last.

He shoves the distracting emotions aside. They’re not completely safe yet, and he can’t afford to slip up now. He renews his assault, driving what’s left of the ground troops further into disarray. It may be excessive, using this much power against the falling-apart assault, but he would take that guilt a hundred times over rather than risk having anything happen to the clan, to Reginald.

This time it’s the signal that interrupts him, pulls him out of the carnage. Five bullets fired into the ground at even two second intervals registers in his senses. The pattern repeats three times, and he knows it’s done. The aerial defense squadron was only to give that signal when the rocket was safely out of reach.

Henry halts his assault and moves on to the second stage of his assignment. He concentrates, draws on the reserves of his power, and pulls up.

Walls raise up around the base, trapping the enemy on one side and his allies on the other. This will keep the remaining Toppats on the ground safe until it’s time to move out. 

With his job done, Henry allows himself to rematerialize above the ground. He staggers a bit, the feeling of occupying a physical form again and the drain of using so much magic at once taking its toll on him. He hasn’t exerted himself like that in decades and the exhaustion he feels makes him want to sink back into the ground and sleep.

Instead he turns and looks, not at the carnage of his assault, but up. All he can see now is the trail left behind by the launch. The rocket itself is entirely lost from view.

 _It’s better this way_ , he thinks.

He doesn’t dwell on his despair, on the pain screaming in his soul at being left behind. Instead, he closes his eyes and focuses. The feeling of stretching his senses is one he has experienced countless times before, but it has always been outward into the surrounding earth, but not this time.

This time, he focuses inward.

His senses, as useful as they are, could be considered limited. He can only sense through the earth below, has only ever been able to sense what is on and in the ground. It had made for a painful realization, knowing that most of the time he would not be able to sense Reginald. His beloved was always aboard the airship, beyond what he could sense. Henry had long accepted that fact, contented himself to know that being on the airship meant that he was safe.

If this works, he won’t have to anymore.

It feels different than sensing through the ground, but it wasn’t entirely alien. He could always return his senses to his true form, could always feel the living earth that cradled what was once his mortal flesh. Most of the time he never bothered. Sending his senses to that form would blind his manifestation, and he could only ever sense the same things from the unmoving gemstone. Splitting his consciousness between the two was only ever a hassle. But now, he does exactly that.

Henry feels the same things he always does from that form: seemingly endless earth all around, a great mystic power flowing around and through him, the familiar presence of his two companions. It’s all what he’s felt before.

But, and he’s delighted to realize this, there’s a hole in his awareness, a distinct dark spot in his mental map. He focuses on it, the flame of hope flickering in his soul burning brighter.

Henry doesn’t know if he’ll be able to sense anything through the small piece of himself. It was why he hadn’t informed Reginald of this, not wanting to provide false hope that may amount to nothing. A hundred and one things could go wrong. The distance may prove to be too great, or he may not be able to sense anything in the depths of space. The fragment could die if removed from Earth’s atmosphere, or the lack of Earth’s natural energies may prevent him from reaching it. He’d considered all this and more before even removing the fragment, but he’d still taken the chance. Even if his fears proved true, he wouldn’t regret giving the gemstone to Reginald. He’ll never regret his decision to give it all, everything he was, to him.

The strain from focusing his senses in such a manner sends a wave of pain through him. It almost makes Henry lose focus, but he holds on. He’s close. He knows he’s close.

It’s like closing his eyes to hear better, but on a much finer scale. Henry shuts out every other sense and tries to bring that one fragment into clarity. The strain mixing with the growing pain and frustration threatens to break his concentration.

The it snaps into focus and all he can feel is warmth.

It’s like a balm to the pain in his soul. Henry rests his mind against it, letting the heat soothe the ache from overextending his senses.

He can’t sense much here. The all-encompassing glow is almost the limit of his observation. That was alright, though. This was better than what he hoped for, because he can undeniably sense something else, faintly shining in his periphery.

A strong life-force, one that Henry’s come to associate with love and light, one that lifts his soul whenever he feels it near.

Henry stays as long as he dares, reveling in the closeness of Reginald’s life-force. He knows he needs to return to the surface soon, return to his manifestation and complete his mission, but for now he lets himself linger.

The world can wait a little longer.


End file.
